Page 27

" Y our Grace," one of the footmen at the bottom of the stairs called up, "His Grace the Duke awaits you."

Alethea had been standing at the top of the grand staircase, taking in the scene downstairs. The day that she threw her very first ball had finally arrived, and she felt a mess of nerves.

The servant's announcement carried just enough for her to hear, and indeed Alethea spotted Oliver standing near the base of the staircase, looking up at her. He was surrounded by a few curious onlookers but had eyes only for his wife.

That alone was enough to ease her nerves, only if momentarily.

Alethea descended the staircase. Her gown had been custom-made for her, and it clung to her skin better than any gown that she owned before.

She had been anxious about wearing it, in fear of drawing too much attention to herself, but the way that Oliver was gazing at her now, she felt as though she had made the right choice.

Chin up. Shoulders back. Smile, but not too broadly. Most of all, do not show your fear.

She repeated the words back to herself like a mantra. Tonight would be the true test of her abilities as a duchess, and she was not willing to lose. As she reached the final step, she placed her hand in Oliver's outstretched palm.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she murmured playfully, just loud enough for him to hear as he bowed over her hand.

"Good evening," Oliver replied, straightening. He looked handsome, she surmised. But then again, it was rare that she did not have that opinion of him. "You look beautiful, Duchess."

Alethea's cheeks warmed instantly. She had grown somewhat accustomed to compliments from the maids as they helped her dress, but hearing it from Oliver was entirely different.

"You are kind to say so," she managed softly. Her lips curved into a shy smile, the praise bolstering her confidence. "I only hope I…"

"You will do splendidly," Oliver cut in gently, reading the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began to lead her forward into the ballroom. "This night is yours, Duchess. Enjoy it."

"I suppose that is easier said than done," she noted with a nervous smile.

"I have seen the same nervousness in you before," he nodded, unfazed. "But you always manage to do wonderfully. You should know that about yourself, and find the confidence."

She nodded, exhaling. The two of them made their way out to the ballroom. A hush fell over the immediate vicinity as people took in the Duke and his bride as everyone took in the sight of them, some openly assessing while others warm and welcoming. Alethea kept her chin raised.

Before Alethea could take in more, they were intercepted by the first of many well-wishers.

"Your Graces," The Duchess of Haworth greeted, executing a courteous curtsy. "What a delightful affair. We are all so eager to meet the new Duchess of Redhaven." Her eyes traveled over Alethea appraisingly.

"Thank you, it is a great pleasure to meet you," Alethea nodded.

"And might I say, Your Grace, that gown is a triumph. The color is bold, but you wear it marvelously."

Alethea dipped into a respectful curtsy of her own, just as she had practiced.

"Thank you. You are very kind."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Oliver inclining his head in greeting, but he kept a protective hold on her arm.

The dowager duchess chuckled, reaching to pat Alethea's hand.

"It is merely the truth. We have all been most curious about you, you know. It is not every day a long-lost Carter sister reappears and becomes a duchess overnight." Though the lady's tone was light, Alethea felt a prickle of discomfort. She opened her mouth, uncertain how to respond.

Oliver smoothly intervened with a charming smile.

"Her Grace has adjusted admirably in a short time. I confess I am immensely proud of her."

The older woman seemed satisfied and murmured a few pleasantries before moving along. Alethea looked up at Oliver gratefully. He had a way of fielding intrusive comments in a manner that she was still unable to.

"I suspect we will be hearing a lot of that tonight," she murmured to him. She could not blame the people either Her story was rather extraordinary, so naturally there would be great interest in it.

"Well, then I suppose it is lucky for you that I am here," Oliver replied in his usual calm tone.

For the next quarter of an hour, they made a slow circuit of the room, greeting prominent guests and receiving introductions. Many were curious to meet Alethea, and though her stomach fluttered each time someone new approached, she met them with as much grace as she could afford.

Alethea soon realized a pattern: the older ladies of society were direct, more likely to be probing in their questions about her upbringing, while the gentlemen were invariably polite and brief, limiting themselves to compliments on the lovely ball.

She answered where necessary but mostly let Oliver take the lead in conversation.

It struck her how different this gathering was from anything she'd known. But perhaps the best realization of them all was that she was not entirely uncomfortable. Everyone saw her as a duchess, and that in itself seemed to carry weight.

"I believe it's time you met a few dear friends of mine," Oliver informed her, leading her out to a cluster of people, "They have been besides themselves for the chance to be able to meet you."

Alethea followed his gaze to the group awaiting them: a trio of couples, it seemed, and one single gentleman. They looked to be around Oliver's age. One of the men stepped forward first.

"Alexander," Oliver greeted him with a grin. "You made it. I feared you would still be hiding in the country."

"As if I would miss meeting the woman who finally tamed the Duke of Redhaven," Alexander quipped with a laugh. He performed a courteous bow to Alethea. "Pleasure to meet you, Duchess and let me introduce my wife Penelope to you."

"It is an absolute delight to meet you, Duchess," she said sincerely. "We have been looking forward to this ever since we heard of the wedding, and Oliver has mentioned you to us since."

Alethea returned the curtsy, smiling.

"All good things, I hope." She hoped her tone conveyed a bit of lightness.

In truth, she wondered what exactly Oliver's friends might have heard, surely not the entire scandal of her abduction and hasty marriage?

The tale publicly told was that Oliver had fallen in love with her and quietly wed in the country.

"Only the best," Alexander assured with a friendly wink. "Oliver's letters have been positively glowing."

Oliver cleared his throat, a hint of color tinging his cheeks.

"You exaggerate shamelessly," he muttered. "Don't listen to a word he says, Alethea. Alexander revels in the garnishing of truth."

The group chuckled, and Alethea's tension eased. She could tell at once that Alexander was the jovial sort of friend who enjoyed teasing.

"Well," she said demurely, playing along, "if my husband has been fawning over me in his private correspondences, I fear he's kept it a secret even from me."

Penelope laughed lightly.

"Oh, I do like her," she declared to Oliver. "She is quick, Your Grace. A perfect match for you."

Before Oliver could respond, another couple stepped forward to claim Alethea's attention. Oliver introduced them as Evan and Isadora.

Isadora dropped a curtsy.

"Your Grace. We are honored to meet you. I must say, your ball is positively splendid."

"Thank you," Alethea replied, and felt a small swell of pride. If these close friends of Oliver's were pleased, surely that was a good sign. "I admit I had much guidance in planning it."

In truth, the household staff had handled the majority of arrangements, knowing she was new to such things.

Even so, she had insisted on contributing ideas, selecting some of the floral arrangements herself, and choosing the menu.

Minor details perhaps, but it gave her a sense of ownership of this event.

"You'll find," Isadora said kindly, "that a duchess quickly becomes adept at these matters. If you ever need any advice, we ladies are more than happy to help."

There was genuine friendliness in her tone that put Alethea at ease. Alethea wondered if she could find a friend in these ladies. They were titled women, of course. Much like herself.

"Careful, Isadora, or you and Penelope will overwhelm her with your expertise," Oliver chuckled. "My wife might never invite you to tea again if you drown her in advice this very night."

Alethea arched a brow at him in a faintly amused way. It was the first time she'd heard Oliver refer to her as my wife in public. The casual possessive warmed her from within.

"On the contrary," she said, looking to Isadora, "I welcome all the wisdom I can get. There is much I have to learn. I confess the success of this ball has been a happy surprise to me."

"Nonsense. You have the natural grace required, I can already tell," Penelope cut in, "Many a debutante with a lifetime of training could not glide through her first ball so calmly."

Alethea wasn't sure how "calm" she truly felt, but Penelope's praise made her laugh softly.

"If I appear calm, Lady Penelope, it may be because the full weight of it hasn't sunk in yet," she said, plainly.

"Don't remind Oliver of the ‘weight' of a ball," Alexander gave a mock shudder. "He'll recall how he detests hosting and vow not to give another for ten years."

Oliver rolled his eyes, though amusement danced in them.

"I am not quite so dramatic. In truth, I find I don't mind hosting at all, under the right circumstances." As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Alethea, making clear exactly what circumstances those were.

Her heart skipped; it sounded very much like a compliment. But before she could respond, the final member of the friend group stepped forward with a broad, charming smile.

This time, it was a young gentleman. He had been hovering just behind the others, waiting for an opening.